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 spring day, tag: jing
Lin Zhuyang
 Posted: Jun 15 2017, 03:28 AM
Quote
© cody [they/them] // Offline
7 posts
yang
24 years old
homoflexible
SOON
yang yang
Backstage VWE


Yang knew that there was nothing that lasted forever. Even the closest of bonds would fray and wither at some point. Everything was destined to die. It was why he preferred to live in the moment than fret over the past or dread the future. Whichever direction fate decided to push him towards, that was where he would go; it was unreasonable to spend too much time making decisions when there was so much inevitability in life.

At the time, it seemed as though he and Zhengguo were fated to be separated. All the pieces fell into place that so perfectly, so effectively, ripped them apart: Zhengguo was torn away from his homeland, from his family, from him, while Yang’s health fell into ruin so abysmal that even if there was some way for him to reach Zhengguo, he could scarcely communicate of his own accord.

The likelihood that they would never see the other again was very high. Not simply on account of proximity, but of mortality as well. There were times Yang felt assured of his own death; times when he’d made peace with it, times when he’d raged against the injustice of it all, the unfairness of life, of fate. But few things in life were certain, and fate was strange and unkind and so extraordinarily fickle. As for him and Zhengguo – perhaps they would meet again. Perhaps they never would. Yang could reach out, he could try to find him again if he really wanted to. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but…

He wasn’t sure what exactly was holding him back. However, it was not in his nature to outright pursue things. He preferred to sit back and let the pieces fall into place on their own, give a few nudges here and there when needed. To put in the full effort on his part would mean he would be held accountable for whatever did or didn’t happen, and he didn’t care to shoulder that responsibility. Specifically, he didn’t want to be the one to blame when things went wrong; and he didn’t want to be the one expending his own effort, his own time and emotions, into something that may fail. It would be an utter waste.

He did not want to waste his energy on something that wasn’t assured. Years had passed since they last saw one another; things had changed. They had changed. And one way or another, no matter how hard they tried to preserve it, their relationship would change if they were to meet and try again. That was why he felt content with preserving it as they had left it, with leaving its delicate ruins undisturbed, thin and frail and prone like dead leaves. It had met such a sad end. But maybe that was how it was meant to be. Maybe it ought to stay that way. Or maybe not. But he could not – would not – will the ashes back to life on his own.

If Yang was truthful with himself, he would acknowledge that fear played a large part in holding him back. Not only did he not want to waste his emotions; he did not want them to be rejected. All he had left of Zhengguo now were scraps of memories, of the boys they used to be, the boys they were most assuredly not any longer. This was a Zhengguo he did not know anymore. He could not know how he may react, how he may feel, if he still felt anything at all. Yang was not well accustomed to rejection, and that was because he always made sure to put himself in a position that would help him avoid such. He kept himself safe, and he kept himself distant. It came with a cost, but in the long run, he found the investment worthwhile.

Yang didn’t feel lonely. There wasn’t some anguishing void gaping in his chest or anything… but it did feel as though there was a piece missing. A small chip in his heart that he felt even when he was surrounded by people, even as he chatted and smiled and laughed in the company of others. It was a soft, somber feeling; something wistful and nostalgic, a melancholic twinge, like gazing out the window on a rainy day. He only felt troubled leaving people behind when he actually cared about them, and his lost relationship with Zhengguo was an unresolved pain. It ended prematurely, and it hadn’t ended on his terms; these factors made it exceedingly difficult for him to patch up the fissure it had splintered in his chest.

He could do something about it if he wanted to. That was what he kept telling himself, as he heard that name flitting around the VW headquarters, gleaming on the big screens, echoing on radios and televisions: Ma Zhengguo. If it was the same boy of his youth—if they were destined to cross paths again by ending up in this same time, this same place together—if he wanted to… and he wanted to… why didn’t he? Well, he already knew the answer to that.

He could delay the inevitable, but he could not stop it. One of the senior stylists called in sick that morning, and Yang was assigned to tend to a certain Ma Zhengguo. At any point before this, Yang could have chosen to reach out to him. It was well within the realm of possibility for him to reasonably do so; the expenditure of effort on his part would have been minimal… and he didn’t. He wanted to be sure that it was something that was supposed to happen, that was bound to happen, with no influence on his part. Some force of the universe that would prove that he and Zhengguo were not meant to be separated forever.

When Yang walked into the room, he did not recognize the man sitting in the salon chair. Rather, he recognized him as the Ma Zhengguo he saw on the screen, or in glimpses around the headquarters, but it was not the Ma Zhengguo he was expecting. “Ma Zhengguo?” he confirmed, and the name felt strange in his mouth. It faintly stirred the memories lying dormant in the back of his mind, dead leaves shuddering in the breeze.

“You can call me Yang. I don’t know if you were told already, but your regular stylist called in sick this morning, so you’re stuck with me.” He smiled at the other man, setting his small makeup bag on the counter. “I won’t do anything too terrible to your face, I promise.” He turned away to sift through the bag, taking out a few things to set them on the counter.

@Ma ZhengGuo / 1,123




TIME IS SO CRUEL
until the spring comes again, until the flowers bloom again, stay there a little longer
by xion of sonder
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Ma ZhengGuo
 Posted: Jun 21 2017, 03:26 AM
Quote
© Carter [Whatever] // Offline
282 posts
Jing
25 years old
Pansexual
Single
Huang Zitao
Idol VWE


tagged for @Lin Zhuyang, 1020 words, Jing Plz stop bringing up bukkake
I guess we changed
Lin Zhuyang was still a sore subject for Ma Zhengguo even six years after the fact. Life in China, at least for him, was vastly different than the life he had made for himself in Korea. Always under his parents thumb and always focusing on whatever thing the thought would be best to have him focus on as well as a level of his own social awkwardness and ugly face made him well... He knew why he wasn't that popular in China. Lin Zhuyang though... well... Jing had been his best friend from the age of five to eighteen when he was sent to Korea. His best friend who had been by his side a solid 70% of his life by that point was stripped away as soon as he was pushed onto the plane to South Korea on his 18th birthday. No cell phone. Because of server restrictions, no way to try to get on at the same time with Yang. No way for them to at least talk somehow about everything that transpired those few months Jing had been in South Korea.

Reuniting with him however... Well... Korea got to him. His first few years of popularity in China depended on him leeching off of Zhuyang. Zhuyang had beauty, Charisma, he was funny and charming... and Jing had been hopelessly in love with him even if he was too terrified to ever say a word. Of course, he knew all the struggles his best friend had gone through with his family well but... he managed to wear it so well that you would never expect something was wrong. So it would be a lie to say he didn't try to follow his example. Jing took on Zhuyang's cocky smile, forced himself to get over his stutter, cared about his appearance and with the help of weight loss, korean plastic surgery, makeup, a growth spurt, contacts, and enough liquid confidence, Jing was able to make himself appear as if he was someone who was comfortable in his own skin.

Someone who was easy to like, even with a smart mouth and a shitty attitude. Someone who deserved of fans. Not some awkward boy from China who would have rather been playing league of legends in his bedroom or who genuinely enjoyed working on math problems so he wouldn't forget how to do them. Korea had covered Jing in its culture like fetish porn covered girls in bukkake. Besides, what the hell would Zhuyang even think of Zhengguo if he found out what Jing had become? A cheap imitation of a mix of Zhuyang and Zhengguo? Jing was no longer the golden heir child to the Ma family fortune nor was he beautiful in the way that make Zhuyang seem to be liked by everyone around him.

Really, he hadn't realized it until Dark Star's first concert in Hong Kong. A classmate from high school had been there as a VIP and hadn't recognized Zhengguo. Thought it was a joke that the short awkward fatass from their class had managed to turn himself into a visual of one of the most attention grabbing groups in K-pop. A classmate who he had sat next to for three years when he couldn't be glued to Yang's side. It hurt, even if he had laughed at the expression of shock once they realized that no, he wasn't actually kidding about who he was. He couldn't imagine however his reunion with Zhuyang going any differently than that.

Error though. It was the start of something new in his life, even if it didn't seem as if it was. Finally, he was taking control of how much he collaborated with Dark Star. His modeling shoots had finally started garnering attention for the group and drawing curious looks from other groups who otherwise would not look twice. It was the first era where he helped translate their songs into Chinese for a broader audience. It was the first era with Shin-young being something other than a brother, the first era where he found himself finally growing up and doing things such as cooking that he would have flat out refused. It was the first era where he stopped sleeping around like the hoe he had turned himself into and found someone who he could see himself settling down with.

The start of the era of Ma Jing instead of the pristine ruins of Ma Zhengguo and the rotting buildings of Ma Jingguo. And for once in his life, he wasn't afraid of change or who he had become or who he might be.

Today however, Jing was to be working on a IISE Seoul photo shoot when his favorite noona stylist had to call out for some reason, which had caused a long whiny rant that was sent to her about how could she leave him with these incompetent stylists who had no idea what they were doing. Or worse, what if they did and Jing was just being pretentious? Bah, he didn't want to even think about that.

He was messing around with some Chinese rip off game of overwatch on his phone when he heard the stylist walk in, his eyes narrowing as he crossed his legs and arms as if he was some super villain in a movie. Looking at the man in front of him's face though, there was no way that... "Mmmmmm, they told me when I came in. Gave me some warning that I can't bite the newbie either." he weakly joked, trying to place the accent just in case it didn't match but...

"Where are you from, Hong Kong? I can't really place the accent." he asked, testing the waters and trying to mimic more of a Beijing accent. Well, at least he assumed it was a Beijing accent, he was just speaking a little slower and emphasizing the retroflexes on some of the words. "Southern China at least, Guangzhou maybe?" he added after a moment, letting the false Beijing accent fall away for half a moment before biting his lip, wondering if the other would notice.

liv's codes
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Lin Zhuyang
 Posted: Aug 21 2017, 11:47 PM
Quote
© cody [they/them] // Offline
7 posts
yang
24 years old
homoflexible
SOON
yang yang
Backstage VWE


Yang had many final impressions of Zhengguo, and all of them were fond, even when their end had been so abrupt and bitter. Jing was soft in ways that Yang wasn’t, could probably never be; he was meek, withdrawn, grappling with an all-consuming desperation for approval that controlled so many aspects of his life. One way or another, Jing was always controlled by something – if it wasn’t some exterior factor, then he would be the one holding himself back, always restraining himself, forcing it all down or forcing it all out.

It was pitiful to watch, and he dreaded the idea of his best friend becoming another cog in the machine, a mere puppet for others to move around or toss aside as the pleased. Zhengguo was always trying so hard for things that didn’t matter; for approval that would never come; for fruitless pursuits and miserable dead-ends. Yang wanted to show him the free and beautiful world that he deserved instead of watching him wilt in the shadows. He knew the real beauty that Zhengguo harbored, and he wanted to see it shine.

It was so beautiful while it had lasted—they’d blazed bright as a star and burned out just as quickly. Still, Yang wouldn’t have wanted it to end any other way. At least they had lived, even if only for a short while. He could cherish those memories, and he could move past the pain… he could bury those feelings, including the one that had gone unconfessed. He’d buried that one long ago.

The thing was, things didn’t always stay buried. A little rain, a little friction, and those pesky little memories and attachments would creep back onto the fringes of his conscious. Just seeing Zhengguo’s name and knowing it could be the same one he’d lost all those years ago—he was both obsessed with and repulsed by the idea. Of course he wanted to see him again. Maybe he needed to see him again. But he didn’t want to see the change; he didn’t want their pieces that had once fit so well together to slip and break against each other. Worse than losing Zhengguo would be to lose him while he was right there in front of him, finally within reach, only to see just how withered and irreparable their connection could have become. They would never be the same; and maybe they would never be friends again.

Yang smiled at the other man’s comment. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about me. I can handle a little rough play.” As he sorted through his bag, he stole a glance at the idol in the mirror. This was Ma Zhengguo. At least, this was someone who held the name Ma Zhengguo... The doubt was so irritating. Was it really his Zhengguo? Did this Zhengguo still hold a Lin Zhuyang in his heart? Did Yang even want to know? “But really, I want to do a good job, and like you said, I’m the new kid around here. So I won’t shed any tears if you want me to do things a certain way. I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

The other stylist had already told him which foundation to use. He didn’t like following someone else’s routine, though he supposed it’d be a better idea to just stick to the norm for now. He listened to the other man talk, quirking an eyebrow when his intonation suddenly changed. Why was he mimicking an accent now? Was he just trying to be funny, or did he think he was actually fooling him? Yang’s lips twitched a bit, trying not to smile. “Nice work, detective. You’re right, I’m from Guangzhou.” He gently dabbed the foundation onto Zhengguo’s face before smoothing it out. “I moved to Korea a few years ago.”

He was almost going to let Zhengguo away with the terrible accent, if only because he thought it was cute and amusing. However... Yang was getting restless with the uncertainty. He wanted to know who this Zhengguo was, and if there were any pieces of his Zhengguo left in him. “Do you normally talk like that when you speak Mandarin?” he asked with an amused smile, a note of teasing in his voice as he set the foundation aside. “They didn’t force you to try changing your accent for whatever reason, did they? It sounds terrible.” Koreans who moved to Seoul from the countryside had to adapt to the Seoul dialect, though it made less sense to have a Mandarin speaker in Korea adjust to a new accent. Really, he just wanted to make fun of him, hehe.

“So, Mr. Beijing, where are you really from?” He asked as he began applying the concealer. Then his gaze met Zhengguo’s, and he hesitated for just a moment before he brought forth the same suggestion. “Guangzhou?” Somehow the single word felt so loaded with emotion, so many unresolved feelings threatening to burst. He found himself holding his breath as he waited for the answer, as if all the pieces would fall into place with a simple response to a question.





TIME IS SO CRUEL
until the spring comes again, until the flowers bloom again, stay there a little longer
by xion of sonder
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Ma ZhengGuo
 Posted: Sep 22 2017, 12:31 AM
Quote
© Carter [Whatever] // Offline
282 posts
Jing
25 years old
Pansexual
Single
Huang Zitao
Idol VWE


Hearing the other was from Guangzhou caused Jing to pause at the answer, trying to think of an appropriate response. There was too much coincidence if it was the same Yang of years past, something that Zhengguo seemed to have too much of recently. Because who would of thought if there were seven and a half billion people in the world as of right now that the half brother he never knew he had would be in the Korean music group he was in. Who would have thought that of 51 million people who currently were living in South Korea that the best friend who he had accepted was gone from his life forever was right here doing his makeup.

It was impossible. He had used up enough god damned coincidence for his lifetime. Besides, he would recognize Lin Zhuyang, wouldn't he? The fact that his memories from when he was eighteen were fuzzy would recede when he saw his best friend, wouldn't they? Yang would recognize him without the gross amount of fat sticking to his bones as if it was their only job, since that's what best friends did wasn't it?

Zhengguo realized he was a bit too quiet for a bit too long after a few awkward moments of silence as his brain processed well... everything. Ruled out the idea that this coincidence and pretended that he wasn't making things even more awkward by just sitting there and thinking. "Mmmm I'll make sure that I don't bite too hard." Jing said said, grinning at Yang. "How many years in South Korea though? I've been here close to seven." Jing said, crossing his legs as he leaned back in the chair and staring at Yang's back as if it would have all the answers to the universe within it.

He let out a laugh though about the comment about his Mandarin however. "Just was wondering if you would catch on, I'm not the best at the northern accent admittedly. I don't actually speak like that. Mostly. But yeah Guangzhou. Around Zhujiang. Where'd you go though, Guangdong Experimental?" Jing asked slowly, as if he was afraid of the answer was going to be no. "It would have been around 2008 to around 2010." He added, wondering if he added the years it would help a little bit. He just... had to hope the answer to that question was yes.

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Lin Zhuyang
 Posted: Oct 6 2017, 12:42 AM
Quote
© cody [they/them] // Offline
7 posts
yang
24 years old
homoflexible
SOON
yang yang
Backstage VWE


“Aha, then I will gratefully accept your mercy. Such a gentleman,” he remarked, trading grins with Zhengguo. “You must make all the boys and girls blush with that charisma.” He was trying to fill the space with nonsense chatter because suddenly the inevitable was looming over him, the inescapable revelation of the truth, the truth that could either crush him or raise him to the stars—the former prospect was so frightening that it made him want to avoid the situation altogether, just as he always had. Standing on the fringes, resolutely holding himself at arm’s length, to avoid getting hurt. Was it cowardly or tactical? He liked to think it was strategic, that it was the best thing to do in order to avoid a waste of time and emotion.

But it seemed that Zhengguo was eager to get to the point, and Yang equal parts appreciated and loathed it. No, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want to know, not now—and yet he was dying to hear it. This ghost that had been haunting him, lurking along the fringes of his conscious – he was sick of wondering, sick of speculating, sick of thinking. Sick of missing and regretting. It was all so tiresome.

“Hmm...” Yang feigned deep thought as he fussed with makeup, just to give himself more time, to brace himself for—he didn’t know what. Suddenly it was like he was staring into the headlights of an onrushing train and he was paralyzed. “I think it’s been about... two... almost three years, now. I was in Europe for a short while before I moved here.” And before that, he was in China, still recuperating from the illness and surgery. “Seven years, huh...?” Yang echoed musingly, mentally tracing a timeline as he busied himself with his makeup supplies. Seven years aligned just about perfectly with when his Zhengguo had been taken from him. Something in his gut twisted anxiously, but there was also a flutter of hope in his chest, and god, emotions were so damn pesky.

“You know, it’s funny, I...” he began, but then he stopped himself, as if the words refused to make their way out of his throat. He wanted to say something about how he had an old friend, one from Guangzhou, one who he’d lost seven years ago, one who shared the same exact name as the man in front of him— He recovered after a moment, smoothly coming up with a different topic. “I’ve only been here a few years but it feels as though I’ve lived here all my life. Sometimes it feels more like a home than home ever was. Though maybe I just like having the independence.” He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. Maybe he was talking just to talk.

“Seven years must have given you plenty of time to adjust. How do you feel about it? Living here.” Or maybe he just wanted to try drawing out some answers, some information. How Zhengguo had been faring all this time. He didn’t have a clue what had happened in those seven years... if he could glean enough information, maybe he could see how little or how much this Zhengguo had changed from the one he knew. With more information, he’d feel safer being more forthright.

Yang chuckled. “It was pretty terrible,” he agreed with a smirk, “but it was amusing, so I’ll give you credit for that. As expected of a professional entertainer.” His smile fell away ever so slightly as Zhengguo relentlessly pushed him with more and more questions. He felt like he was losing control of the situation. God, was he ready for this? He didn’t know if he ever would be. He hadn’t been prepared to dredge up ghosts of the past.

But Ma Zhengguo was not a ghost. He was here, right in front of him. “That’s quite some specific guesswork,” Yang said slowly, deliberately avoiding a direct answer. Was he ready? “It’s... funny, really,” he began again, plucking up the courage to return to his aborted topic from before. “I had this friend, in Guangzhou. This very close friend. We did everything together. Everything and anything. We were wild and stupid, and the consequences caught up to us eventually... well, I digress.” He delicately applied eyeliner along the rims of Zhengguo’s eyes, though he was avoiding looking directly into them. Yang’s expression was smooth as stone, betraying nothing.

“You see, it’s funny, because... I happened to lose contact with him around seven years ago. About as long as you've lived here. And he and I, we attended Guangdong together. And the strangest part is that he shares the same name as you.” Yang pulled back from Zhengguo when he finishes his eyes, giving him an unreadable look. “Would you call that coincidence? Or... is it something more like destiny?”





TIME IS SO CRUEL
until the spring comes again, until the flowers bloom again, stay there a little longer
by xion of sonder
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